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“Look!” my husband said proudly one evening. “I fixed it for you!”
He held up my favorite handheld kitchen tool, the stainless-steel pastry cutter, and pulled on it to illustrate that he had fixed its broken handle.
To his dismay, the handle pulled apart in his hand.
It’s a scene I’ll never forget: my one-year-old son taking his first steps, placing one foot uncertainly in front of the other, arms outstretched toward my hands, eyes wide open in wonder, and a big awe-struck smile on his upturned face.
As he closed the gap between us and finally grasped my hand, I swooped him up in a bear hug, and we all cheered for him. Amazingly, after months of crawling and pulling up and falling and getting up again, my baby had learned to walk.
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We have been watching old family videos lately from when our children were very young.
“I’m so grateful we have these videos,” I told my husband, “because there is so much I don’t remember from those chaotic years.” |
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All masked up, my family and I sat 12 feet away from my elderly parents outside their apartment. Sitting side by side, my parents looked out at us from behind the screened porch.
They clasped hands, as always, embracing the odd state of the world — not knowing what the future would hold — but content to be facing it together, just as they had faced all things in their 63 years of married life.November is traditionally […]
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My family and I are embarking on a new journey this fall. It involves books and time and patience and togetherness — lots and lots of each.
This new journey is homeschooling. |
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When my son’s loose front tooth popped out after weeks of wiggling it back and forth, he and I were both still surprised.
He had been just resting on the couch, chewing gum.
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God gave me a gift today.
It was subtle, yet unmistaken, and came in the sound of my daughter’s laughter as we played chess on our back patio in the shade of the silver maple tree.
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Like many people, I’ve been getting little sleep these days, pondering the troubles plaguing the world.
Amidst tumultuous times, finding a way to rest a while is imperative — for mental health, for the strength to care for one’s family. |
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My daughter’s yearbook arrived the other day.
Brimming with colorful photos of smiling students and teachers at various gatherings, it filled me with not only the nostalgia that always accompanies the end of the school year but with a yearning for the way things used to be, before masks and social distancing.
